Absences
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Tag to "Muse". Sleeping on the bridge isn't like Tuvok. What's troubling him, and how can his best friend help?


Absences

By Laura Schiller

A _Star Trek: Voyager_ Fanfiction

Copyright: Paramount

"Would you care to tell me what happened earlier?" Captain Kathryn Janeway looked up from the ready-room sofa at her tactical officer, who stood at perfect attention, looking as deeply embarrassed as it was possible for a Vulcan to look. And no wonder; earlier that day, he had fallen asleep at his station just as B'Elanna and Harry had been discovered. Had it been any of her other officers, Kathryn Janeway would have been annoyed, but Commander Tuvok was one of the most conscientious people she had ever known. If _he_ neglected his duties, something must be wrong.

"I shall accept whatever disciplinary measures are necessary. I guarantee you, Captain, it will not happen again."

"Goodness, Tuvok, I'm not about to throw you in the brig." She waved a reassuring hand. "I'm concerned, that's all. Have a seat."

He perched stiffly on the edge of the sofa. She crossed the room to the replicator, ordered coffee for herself and spiced tea for him, settled back comfortably on the sofa, and waited. In her experience, when it came to getting her old friend to open up, patience was the best tactic at her disposal.

"I was … unable to sleep while Ms. Torres and Mr. Kim were missing," he said. "I believed my time would be better spent scanning for their shuttle. It was … an error of judgment."

He'd been worried, she realized with a pang of sympathy. He was a mentor of sorts to both of them, teaching Harry to play _kal-toh_ and B'Elanna to manage her temper during their off-duty hours. She could imagine how he felt; fears about her crew had disturbed her own sleep more than once during this dangerous journey.

Still … "They've gone missing before," she said, resisting the urge to apologize for her bluntness, which he would only dismiss. "So has every one of us, at one point or another, and you never reacted like this. Are you … is something else going on?"

Tuvok closed his eyes, for several seconds longer than it would take to blink. For all that gesture said, he might as well have buried his face in his hands.

"My daughter," he confessed, "Resembles Lieutenant Torres in age and temperament. Her meditation lessons were often … similarly challenging." The ghost of a smile flickered in his eyes before fading again. "Since we made contact with the Alpha Quadrant, I have sent messages to every member of my family. She is the only one who has not replied."

Asil. His youngest. Kathryn had met her a few times at family holidays, including her initiation ceremony as a disciple of Kohlinar. She remembered the young woman as quiet, poised and elegant, making Tuvok's tales of her unruly childhood almost impossible to believe. But with him, she knew, there was always more beneath the surface. Probably his daughter was the same.

"The Kohlinari choose to isolate themselves, don't they?" she pointed out. "Gol's in the middle of a desert. Maybe … maybe the news just hasn't reached her yet."

"Perhaps she is ill, injured or dead," said Tuvok, in a tone of priest-like serenity that didn't fool her for an instant, "Or perhaps the purging of her emotions has progressed to the point of neutrality, even towards her family."

It took all of Kathryn's limited human self-control not to shudder. IDIC notwithstanding, there were some aspects of Vulcan culture that still left her appalled. "Is that possible?" she asked.

"It is rare," said Tuvok. "I hope … " Whatever he'd been about to say, he swallowed it, no doubt as being too emotionally revealing. "It is difficult," he finally said, "Not knowing. "

Kathryn could only nod. She had hoped that the Pathfinder project and its regular mail packets would at least provide certainty, whatever else it did. She hated writing condolence letters, but at least, she told herself, those family members got closure. Moments like this were one more unwanted reminder of how alone they were out here.

She glanced at his face, so cool, so composed, then at his hands. The tea in its stainless steel mug was rippling faintly. _Not completely alone,_ she thought, with a rush of fierce protectiveness that would no doubt embarrass him if he knew. _I'm here._

"You should try again," she said. "Don't give up. Ask T'Pel, ask your sons, if they can find out anything about her."

"I intend to." He sipped his tea and gave her a pointed look, letting her know he had already guessed everything she wasn't saying, and that he was grateful. She blushed. "Asil has always tended to extremes," he added. "As a child, she would have laughed out loud to hear anyone predict that she would grow up to become a priestess. It would not surprise me to hear that she had changed her mind again."

"Chip off the old block, is she?" Kathryn teased. "I seem to remember a young ensign determined to quit Starfleet as fast as he could."

"Indeed," said Tuvok, in what passed for him as a rueful tone. "My mother has commented more than once on the cosmic justice of a grandchild like Asil."

This time Kathryn couldn't help herself – she laughed. Clan Chief T'Meni was tiny, walked with a cane, and could silence her grown-up security chief of a son with one sharp glance. "I'm sure you deserved everything you had coming to you."

"I did," he said.

"And wherever your daughter is, I'm sure she knows … " Kathryn searched for a politer phrasing, shrugged, and gave up. "She knows you love her."

"I do not feel love, Captain," he said, in precisely the same tone he had used dozens of times already.

"Semantics, Tuvok. You know what I mean."

He raised a wry, affectionate eyebrow at her, and she smiled back. Since their duty shift was over, and nothing more needed to be said, they leaned into the cushions and sipped their hot drinks in perfect silence.


End file.
